


All-Nighter

by a-bigail (spacepuck)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sleep Deprivation, kind of?, this girl needs to talk through her issues.....damn, this sounds so emo and sad but i promise it has a happy ending lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-20 21:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16145543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacepuck/pseuds/a-bigail
Summary: She chewed the inside of her cheek. She just wanted to tell him "hey, don't die" or "hey,pleasedon't die," but she knew that road would force her to open up about the real reason behind her calling. So, instead, she said,"Nothin'. Just want you to be safe is all."He paused for a moment. She heard his keys jangle again."Will do, Aubrey. You don't worry about me, alright? I keep tellin' you I'm tougher than I look."--Aubrey can't sleep. She thinks it could be a poltergeist. Really, it's just her anxiety telling her that if she sleeps, the world's gonna catch up to her.[Takes place immediately after episode 14!]





	All-Nighter

**Author's Note:**

> ever have anxiety so bad you can't sleep because you think you'll die if you do? welcome aboard. 
> 
> also, just pretend that the events of episode 15 don't happen right away :-) pretend they happen like....a week later. it's my city now.
> 
> mood music: [cocoon](https://gabrielmayers.bandcamp.com/track/cocoon) & [indiana](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mATEy0Avc4)

It had been an old thought. Breathe deep, deep into your belly, think your thought, and bite your tongue. Let it out slow. Check: Is your soul back in place? Can you think straight? Do your ribs ache? Rinse and repeat regardless.

It was a trick her mom taught her when she was small to make her stop saying blunt, sometimes cruel things to strangers. Her mom would remind her on the drive home from school, while the air was heavy and as she tried to hide a bruise on her arm, biting that she wasn't hiding anything and that school was _fine._ On the sidelines of little league soccer games, when she was on the brink of quitting, overwhelmed with not making scores and letting down her team, her mom would lock eyes with her and gesture, palm down, lowering her hand from throat-level to stomach. _Breathe, think, bite._

She wasn't an angry kid, not like people thought; her dad called her "firecracker." Her grandma called her "mi pequeña chispa," or just _chispa_ in times of endearment and frustration. Her mom called her Aubrey. Sometimes Aub, and sometimes, when she would overhear her mom on the phone, watching as she curled the cord around her finger, things like, _"she's just a little feisty, isn't she?"_ and _"well, you know her, the little dragon -- girl breathed fire before she ever cried."_

No, never angry. Rambunctious, her teachers called her. Plucky, restless. Spit-fire. Her words sat on the tip of her tongue before she had the chance to process whether they would hurt, or were true, or made sense. Her hands were always moving, fingers snapping, knuckles cracking. ADHD had been a term in her peripherals since she was six, but faded as she grew older and took the reprimands to heart. (Her dad had said it was a phase, anyway, that the whole thing was a scam to get him to buy Ritalin. Her mom smacked his arm for that one). She could hold her tongue better by the time she was fourteen; she learned to stop fidgeting so much, though still bobbed her legs and chewed her nails and twisted her hair during class. She kept a deck of cards in her backpack and practiced Zarrow shuffling during lunch hour, mostly just to feel the cards against her thumbs, but was encouraged by her friends, awestruck and confused and entertained, to do more. 

Now, though, standing on the porch outside her room at Amnesty, Aubrey had no cards, and could do nothing but snap her fingers. The little flame hardly had a moment to thrive before she snuffed it out and snapped again. Blinked and you missed it, although she didn't even watch her hand (couldn't, she thought, before she snuffed that out, too). She tapped her foot, eyes roaming the darkened garden, the gravel lot that served as the lodge's parking area, hungry for something to lock onto. But there was nothing. The lot, poorly and barely lit by lights of the verandas, fell into darkness a few yards out. The winter shrubs were still and skeletal, the warblers still asleep in the surrounding pines. It was five in the morning. It was cold, and a little damp, and of course there would be nothing. 

With one snap, she accidentally drew a small blaze around the banister in front of her, and she was forced to look down at the flame as the heat reached her brows. A surge of panic reared itself in her, but the flame died before she could think to do it herself. 

She took off a glove and touched the railing--too damp to hold a fire. The scent of the singe lingered until a breeze swept it away.

"...Shit," she breathed. She took a cautionary glance at her neighbors' windows, still dark, undisturbed by her. "Damn it."

She couldn't even blame this--whatever _this_ was, the feeling that she couldn't quite grasp herself, couldn't stay on a thought long enough to know what she was thinking--on a nightmare. It would have been easier, then, to brush it off, take some deep breaths and go back to sleep. But she just plain hadn't slept all night. Something locked her awake. A ghost, she thought, but she knew all the ghosts here, and they all kept much to themselves. Then, maybe, something more sinister, but she had read _The Exorcist_ a decade ago as a teen and, well, that didn't seem right, either. 

The days before had been spent partially out on a stretch of trail that didn’t take her too far, but far enough to not be bothered, and partially in Mama's office, where the woman had let her in and kept her in quiet company as she worked. Yesterday, she let her stay while she made a trip out to Snowshoe "to help that dumb bastard Todd Gladstone, guy can hardly put one foot in front of the other." Aubrey understood it as a white lie, but smiled anyway and gave Mama luck. Alone in the office, she wavered in front of Mama's bookcases, picking up books and putting them back when she found herself unable to digest the words. She stared at the maps of the forests. Sprawled herself on the couch and pretended to read for a while, before settling the book on her stomach and watching it bob slowly with her in-breaths.

Mama came back sometime after sundown, shoulders and hair dusted in snow, to Aubrey staring at a cobweb laced in the corner of the window. She asked if she was feeling catatonic as she shed her coat and scarf, before suggesting she go shower and rest up. It wasn't unkind; she gave Aubrey a heavy pat on the shoulders once she got up, and a look that was halfway to an apology. But Aubrey knew that she was asking her to leave because she had prep work to do, different from what she had been doing earlier, which meant she would be leaving again. Longer this time. Still, she smiled, said goodbye to Mama, and crossed the lobby, lightened with strings of holiday lights. On entering her room, she felt her eyes mist over, and she reprimanded herself with a curse and a swipe of a finger under each eye to keep her eyeliner from smearing. _Stop being a baby, it's not like she's your..._

Mama, as predicted, left again sometime in the night. Aubrey had seen the headlights flicker awake through her window, and had watched the light stretch and pull away from her room's walls as Mama's truck crunched over the gravel. Her stomach churned knowing she wouldn't come home again for some time. 

Out on the porch, her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket, startling her out of her thoughts. 

She felt nauseous as she stilled her hands and pulled it out. There was a little voice telling her it would be her dad, because he always called at the worst times. She then wondered if Indrid had gone the private phone route, and panicked at what would be waiting for her -- _"You have three seconds to save everyone you've ever loved from certain peril! Good luck!"_ But she swallowed the feeling back down and looked at the screen.

It was dark. She pressed the power button, then again, harder, but nothing happened. 

A long breeze ran through and rustled the canopy of branches overhead. 

Right. Quiet Zone. Duh. She hadn't even gotten a call or text since she ended up near the Monongahela, hadn't even talked to her dad in almost a year--barely spoke since she skipped town. Still, she stared dumbly down at it for a moment longer before putting it away.

(She wondered how many times he had tried to call her since she got here, but that was a bitter, scary thought.)

Her glorified iPod now dead, she figured it was time to head back in. She slipped off her other glove and tucked the pair away in her jacket, too, as she readied herself to go back inside.

Before she could step away, though, a light flickered on along the opposite end of the lodge. She leaned her palms against the banister and squinted to count the veranda lights. From what she figured, the dim lamplight came from Dani's window, and briefly, the other girl's shadow stretched into the semi-dark, then disappeared as she tugged the curtains shut. 

Aubrey still didn't get how she could sleep with the curtains open all night. Knowing the things that lurked in the forest, earth-things and not, gave her the heebies. And why she woke up so early was beyond her—Dani always mentioned waking up with the sun, but sunrise wasn’t for another couple hours. 

A thick breeze rolled through, this time disturbing the trees into a lengthy whistling roar. She shuddered, feeling the pinch of cold on her brows and cheeks. _Speculation later, inside now._

The warmth stepping in was welcome, despite the quake that ran up her spine and down her arms as she adjusted to the balmy room. She shed her boots and jacket, hat and scarf, leaving them as a trail on the floor as she stepped around Dr. Bonkers, sleeping on a blanket folded at the end of the bed. He twitched minutely in his sleep. She resisted the urge to wake him and hold him, but was also a little jealous that he was sleeping at all. 

The Something that had kept her awake still locked her up. She tried shaking out her arms, rolling her neck, hopping lightly on her toes to loosen its hold, but nothing budged. Anxiety continued to roil in her gut. Her bed continued to taunt her. 

She scrubbed at her sore eyes. At this point, the only way out was up. Gotta wake up to undo it all, maybe. Which translated loosely to coffee time.

She grabbed the hoodie that hung off the back of a chair, tugged it over her. and headed out.

The floors creaked lowly under her as she made her way to the lobby, as quietly as she could manage to keep from waking anyone. But, as the chill soaked through her socks, her toes curled and each step seemed more weighted then the one prior. The ghosts liked to make excuses about why the lobby was freezing in the mornings—the lodge had to save on electricity, Jake turned the heater off, the heater turned _itself_ off. For some reason, they danced around the fact that they preferred the chill, even though it came with the territory of, well, being a ghost. She couldn't fault them for it, really. 

The lobby's lights were out for the night, too. As she edged her way to the kitchen, not without noisily hip-checking a table or two, she felt along the wall for the row of switches. Surely there were two or three that got the place going...

She hit one and the lights in the kitchen flickered to a harsh, cool white. Her hand flew up to shield her eyes.

"Jesus," she muttered. She patted her hand along the wall, just missing the panel of switches. _Thought Barclay's eyes were good enough, do these lights have to be so..._

Outside the kitchen, the lobby lights came on, then dimmed to a low, forgiving soft white. It hadn't been her. Slow, padding footsteps neared the kitchen, the creak of the floors gentler than when she had walked in. A whisper said her name. 

As she turned, she was met with Dani, shoulders wrapped in her bed's comforter and standing at the kitchen's cut-out window. Her hair, barely any more disheveled than it usually was, was loosely braided over her shoulder. 

"Oh. G'mornin', Dani."

"Mornin'. Rough night?" 

"Huh?"

Dani made a small gesture to her own face, a finger hovering a circle over her eyes. 

"Oh," Aubrey said. She had half a mind to turn away, clearing her throat a little as she spotted the coffee maker on the corner of the counter. She grabbed a water glass from the shelf, free hand rubbing the heel of her palm against her eyes. 

"Sorry. Yeah, rough night. Little bit."

"I heard about the run-in a couple days ago. You, uh, doin' alright?"

Aubrey tossed a shrug, her back to Dani as she filled the glass with water to dump into the coffee maker's reservoir. 

"I'm okay, just happens sometimes." She continued scrubbing at an eye as a little lie rolled out of her. "I mean, I used to get nightmares a lot as a kid, so I still get them sometimes now? Or, I don't know if that's how it works, because basically all kids get nightmares, I _think,_ but, there's lots of people who just don't have them. But, uh, I do." She filled the reservoir, maybe too much, and shrugged again. "No biggie, though."

"Oh, I meant..." 

Dani paused. Shuffled around a little, maybe tugging her blanket closer. Aubrey roamed her eyes over the shelves in search for coffee grounds, hugging herself as the chill reached her arms. 

God, was she tired. She wondered where Mama went—probably back into the forest, back to the Gate. She worried as the winds whistled stronger overhead, and she wondered when she would come home, if she would be safe this time. It was kind of stupid how often she thought about it, and she knew it. Knew it was normal that Mama was gone almost as much as she was around. But this was her home, wasn't it? 

She startled as Dani appeared beside her and nudged a bag of grounds against her elbow. As she stumbled over a thank you, Dani reached over and fitted a filter into the coffee maker, her comforter brushing against Aubrey’s arm. 

Aubrey shook the bag of grounds over the filter, eyeballing the amount. She could feel Dani watching her. 

"So," Dani started, drawing out the vowel, "no offense, but you look beat." 

Aubrey closed the top, flipped the switch. The din of the burner warming was quiet, but filled the space where she should have responded with more than just a mumbled "thanks." 

Dani tried again. "Maybe you should try to go back to sleep?"

"No, no, it's okay." Aubrey straightened herself, trying again to roll the stiffness from her shoulders. "I want to stay up. Uh, I mean, I don't think I'm gonna fall back asleep at this point, so..." 

She kept her eyes on the coffee slowly dripping into the pot. Noticing that Dani was picking at a stubborn food stain with a fingernail, she drummed her fingers against the countertop. 

"But, who knows," she continued, "maybe I'm one of those people who crashes from caffeine. I'll take one sip and _blam,_ fall to the floor."

"Hmm. That sounds like, I dunno, cardiac arrest or something?" Aubrey could hear the small smile. "Also, you've had coffee before, I've seen it. _You_ don't crash, that's for sure."

"Ah, well, y'know, that was all decaf..." 

Dani chuckled. Then she nudged Aubrey's elbow with hers. "Hey, wanna start up the fire? I turned on the heating, but it won't kick in for another half hour or so. Keep forgetting to get Barclay to check out the furnace. I'll keep an eye over here." 

"Oh, sure. Just don't, y'know, poison the coffee or anything."

Dani hummed. As Aubrey padded to the center of the lobby to its hearth, the cold came over her again, alongside an uneasiness, but she shook out her hands and cursed quietly at the winds howling overhead for giving her the creeps. She held out her palm to cast a flame. 

And she stopped.

Not a spark, not even a brush of warmth came over her. Instead, as she held out her palm, thoughts rushed her. The thought of a sudden storm. A large and creaking pole. A little shop across the street, a house caving in. Black smoke.

She dropped her hand. She felt nauseous. 

"Uh, Dan? Dani?" 

"Hm?"

The floorboards signaled Dani's slow steps towards her, and she turned away from the hearth to face her. She bit her tongue and took a shaky breath in, halfway down her chest. 

"Uh, funny, my magic isn't, um. Working right now? It's weird, it's, well--"

Her lip wobbled a moment, and she bit the inside of it, harsh and obvious. Dani's brows perked.

"Oh, okay. Don't worry about it, I'll get it goin'." She waved her off, moving past her to the basket of fire logs and tinder and things beside the hearth. "I think the coffee's about done, if you wanna grab a couple mugs. We can set up shop right here." 

And that was that. As Aubrey tried to swallow some of her embarrassment, starting to step back towards the kitchen, Dani stopped her.

"Hey, Aubrey?"

She stilled, looking back at her. Dani, kneeling in front of the hearth, reached out and gave the back of Aubrey's hand a couple small taps. 

"No wonder—forgot your gloves." 

Aubrey nodded dumbly. Then she looked down at her bare hands, and nodded again.

"Right. Whoops."

She stood there a moment longer before starting off back to the kitchen. Numb, grabbing a couple camping mugs from the cabinet, she looked at her hands again, wondering what the hell that was about.

She left her coffee black. Added a smidge of sugar to Dani's, wondered, again, what the _hell_ that was about as she stirred. Little beads of coffee dripped over the lip and down the sides, and she wiped them away with her fingers, ignoring the slight burn. 

It was fine. She was overreacting, probably. Besides, Dani was right. She forgot her gloves. Plain and simple.

Dani's eyes were on her as she returned to the hearth. She had pulled a table closer to the fire, a newspaper folded in front of her. She stifled a yawn behind her hand, thanked Aubrey when she set her coffee in front of her. Shifted her comforter, fussed with her paper, directed her eyes back to the fire. 

Aubrey sat and looked down into her drink, hands wrapped around the heat of the mug. 

They listened to the wood settle for a little while as the wind rattled the windows.

"Aub," Dani started. She shifted in her seat to face her, sitting side-saddle in her chair. "Did something—" 

Then she stopped, and started over as she slid the folded newspaper between them on the table, pulling a pen from her sweatpants pocket and settling it on top of the quarter-finished crossword. "You're smart, help me with this." 

And Aubrey did, sort of. She sipped at her coffee, guessed a couple right ("Oh, easy, that one's _deffo_ Agatha Christie." "Who's that?" "You're kidding? _Well_..."), but guessed a lot of them wrong. Dani didn't mind. She wrote their guesses along the margins, scrawled them in the boxes when she thought they got them right. Aubrey, cheek buried in her arms on the table, watched as she penned A-G-A-T-H-A down the grid.

She had hardly touched half of her drink when Dani went to get a refill. While she was gone, she shifted to rub her eyes into her forearms. The walls groaned, interrupted by the far-away clang of a spoon against enamel as Dani stirred.

For a short while, she drifted, not quite awake, not quite crashing into sleep. Her jaw was clenched too tight to be comfortable, but, finally, some of the locked-up feeling had worked its way out of her joints. The dark was soothing on her eyes, at the very least. Dani's footsteps sounded far away, like a dream still fuzzy and abstract. She thought she heard Dani hum, as though muttering a small conversation to herself. 

This is nice, Aubrey thought. 

As she fell into a shallow sleep, she thought it again.

There was nothing for a while. For a moment, it felt like the best nothing she ever had.

When the dark landscape of sleep started taking form, she found herself in a place. She stood before a stretch of hallway carpeted grey, lined with a cherry wood banister that opened to a stairway spiraling down into nothing. Flecks of sunlight hit the walls. A tree rustled nearby. A window was open, though she couldn't see it. She knew, in the weird omnipresent way dreams are known, that the open window was behind her, in her bedroom.

Home, she thought.

A figure stood at the end of the hallway. A man with his back turned to her, shifting idly from foot to foot. Her mind rushed to fill in the blank, though what she could see of him was indistinct at best. Big-shouldered, round. Dressed in khaki and dark olive. The name was there, just out of reach, but something kept her from grasping it. Even without it, there was a tug on her conscious. _This isn't quite right_.

He stood at the end of the hallway near her parent's bedroom door, broad-rimmed hat in hand. He stared at the walls where, she knew, her parents hung some of their travel memorabilia, collected before she was born. A couple of evil eye talismans, a frame of sun-faded Polaroids. A scrawled-on map of a portion of the Andes. Various little trinkets that she had always seen but never asked about. There were a couple of vintage masks that always spooked her, staring her down when she got up in the middle of the night, but whether they were Masquerade or Venetian was beyond her. She couldn't see them now.

He rotated his hat in his hands. Not nervously, though. Bored. Waiting. She was muted -- all she could do was watch as he looked around, idle. 

Then things fell still. The sunlight stopped flickering on the walls. The tree stopped rustling. Though she couldn't see it, and thought it didn’t make a sound, she knew her bedroom window was now closed. 

He shifted one more time, this time standing straight, placing his hat back on his head.

Duck reached a hand out to knock on her parent's bedroom door.

Suddenly, the locking came back. The moment she recognized him, something rushed at her core, gripping her spine and jolting her. It locked her knees and elbows, sent static down her arms. The spots of sunlight on the walls went out. Something pounded slow against her bedroom window. Duck was still there, wavering in front of her, but unaware of the sudden dark. Unaware of the noise from her room, even as it seemed to get louder and shake the walls. 

He reached for the doorknob.

Her window broke. 

Something snatched him up, and he went wordlessly.

Fear, she thought, dazed as she was wrenched from sleep. As she woke, the image of Duck and the place became a muddy imprint in her memory, but the feeling still gripped her. _This is fear._

She saw stars before she saw the walls of the lodge, the fire, a hand in her peripherals touching her arm. She lifted a heavy hand to hold her head as it spun, and she braced her other hand against the table, trying to push herself up. 

Someone beside her said things. A hand squeezed her arm, gentle through the numbness, though trying to still her. The wind was back, hitting the walls and windows, trying to get in.

_Duck is dead._

It was all she could think. 

"Duck," she breathed. She scrubbed her face with a hand, still bracing herself against the table. _Fuck, wake up, Aubrey._ "Where's Duck?"

"Duck? Well—why, what's wrong?"

The hand squeezed her arm. Aubrey looked down at it, cupped around her bicep, then at Dani, half-standing out of her chair beside her. She asked again, slower. 

"Duck. I need to check on him, I think something's wrong."

Aubrey moved to stand fully. She realized then, as it dropped away from her shoulders onto her seat behind her, that Dani had draped her comforter over her. The wash of affection was brief, and swiftly drowned by, tiredly mistaken for, panic. She tried to shake Dani's grip on her arm, but if anything that made her hold on tighter.

"Let _go,_ Dani."

"Aubrey, _sh_. Everyone's still sleepin', calm down. You had a nightmare."

As she spoke, Dani gestured, palm down, throat to stomach-- _lower your volume._

_Breathe, think, bite._ Aubrey paused and bit her tongue. She forced a long breath into her, but could only get it chest-deep. The breath came back out of her in a rush. 

"Dani," she said, trying to keep her voice measured, "I _need_ to check on him. He might be--"

She couldn't finish. Dani let go of her arm, opting to lightly shove down on Aubrey's shoulder to make her sit again. She obliged, but turned partway in her seat to look at the lodge's front entrance, on edge to bolt. Dani sat again with a leg tucked under her, pulling her hand away from Aubrey’s shoulder. 

"What, dead?" Dani finished for her. When Aubrey flinched, she said, "Oh, geez. He's not _dead,_ Aub. You had a nightmare is all."

"You don't know that." 

"Well, it's probably a good guess. You're not the premonition type, I don’t think. Is this what's been keeping you up all night?" 

Aubrey gave her a look. Dani shrugged, slipping her hand around her mug.

"You're not the best liar. You always tell me your nightmares, you know? Even when they're gross and I tell you I _don't_ want all the gory details."

She sipped her coffee. Aubrey deflated in her chair a little and started to chew her thumbnail. 

"Dani, I—you don’t get it. I almost... _killed_ him. A couple days ago, down at Mr. Tarkesian's place. Not on purpose, it was an accident, but..."

"You almost killed him? What, like, almost ran him over?"

"No..." Aubrey pressed her palms against her eyes, sighing. "It was my magic. I fucked it up. It just – I was nervous, and it just came out of me, and I couldn't—"

"But you didn't kill him."

"...No."

"Or anyone, for that matter. Right?"

"...Yeah."

Aubrey pulled her hands away from her face. Dani paused to take a slow sip of her drink. 

"So what makes you think he's gonna die now?" she asked.

At that, Aubrey lifted and dropped her hands against her thighs, exasperated. 

"I don't _know._ Like, I know it makes no sense, but to be fair, _nothing_ about the past few months here have made sense. You know? So why would the world draw the line here? Yeah, he didn't die two days ago, but he could drop dead at any second _now,_ as like, I don't know, the universe having a late reaction to my fuck up? Some god out there doing it to say, 'You thought you were off the hook for that? Nice try, kid!'"

She knew she was raising her voice as, again, Dani motioned her hand downward, mouth poised to shush. Aubrey gulped down a breath and muttered an apology. 

Dani seemed to wait for her to compose herself before saying,

"Aubrey...look. I know things are messed up right now, but you've gotta understand that...even if you stay awake and never sleep again, that won't keep him from dying _ever_. Right?"

Aubrey didn't respond. Dani continued.

"I'm not saying he suddenly died because you fell asleep for, like, a half hour. He almost definitely didn't. I'm just saying that if, for whatever freak reason he _did,_ it would have nothing to do with you. You don't have control over that, Aub. Besides, if he got out of _that_ mess unscathed, the guy's probably more than fine just sleeping at home, doing nothing."

"But what if you're wrong? Dani, I can't shake this feeling that the second I'm not paying attention, something bad's gonna happen." 

"I mean, that sounds like anxiety to me."

"No, I get that, but it's _real_ this time."

Dani shook her head. Her shoulders slumped, maybe figuring this was a battle she wouldn't win, and peered at the clock on the wall.

"Okay, listen. It's hardly ten after six," she said. "He's probably just waking up. Shoot, guy probably likes to sleep in, especially after all the stuff that's been goin' on lately. He’s got a day-job." 

"I know, but--"

Dani held her hand up to quiet her. 

"Give him another half hour, then give him a ring. Hopefully you'll catch him before he leaves. If not, call up the ranger station around, I dunno, seven-thirty, eight. Even if you don't catch him there, someone can at least tell you if they've heard from him."

Aubrey shifted in her seat, nauseous and now over-warm. She rolled up the sleeves of her hoodie.

"And if he doesn't pick up _and_ no one at the station knows where he is?"

"Then we can go searching, I guess. But really, I think he's okay." 

It took a moment to think over, but Aubrey eventually nodded. Dani patted her knee and moved to stand, but was stopped by Aubrey saying,

"Wait – there's a storm rolling through today, right? That's what's up with all the wind outside?"

Dani looked at the large windows at the back of the lobby, and Aubrey followed. Though still dark out, the lights dotting the back of the lodge illuminated the barren bramble bushes. The thin branches whipped and strained against the wind. 

"Maybe," Dani said, finally standing and grabbing her empty mug. "I don't remember hearing anything about it on the radio yesterday, so it could just be a windstorm passing through. Pretty common up here during the winter."

"Aren't those, y'know, dangerous? At all?" 

"Well, sure, all storms are dangerous. But before you ask if Duck could die because of it, you gotta understand that the guy's been doing this for a while. Right? He seems like he knows what he's doing."

Dani stepped away back to the kitchen, leaving Aubrey to think. She knew Dani was right. Her heart and mind knew she was right, but her stomach refused to settle. Like a snake eating its own tail was coiling up tight inside, squirming in circles.

A glance at the clock told her she had another while to wait before she called. In the meantime, she slid Dani's newspaper closer to her, taking her pen and scribbling shapes and curly-q's around the crossword. When Dani came back, she asked if she was going to do the Sudoku; on the negative, she scribbled patterns into the empty boxes. 

Barclay emerged from his room around six-thirty, waving to the two quietly on his way to the kitchen (then peered at them through the cut-out window, at which Dani huffed, saying "all we did was touch the coffee pot, geez Louise"). The added din of him setting up his own breakfast (and theirs, after he asked if they ate already) gave Aubrey some distraction. But once the clock hit quarter-to, she stood, looking down at Dani and jutting a thumb over her shoulder.

"I'll be back" was all she managed before she left in the direction of the lodge's phone, hidden in a little alcove at the front of the lobby. She took a deep breath, dialed, and hoped she remembered his number right. Then she waited.

And waited. And waited some more, the ringback tone stretching on for so long she almost hung up out of nerves. But, as she just about pulled the phone away from her ear, she heard the tone end. On the other side, a groggy, familiar voice spoke.

"Yeah?"

Aubrey let out a breath, then an "oh, thank god," leading Duck to ask who was calling. 

"Sorry, uh, it's Aubrey."

"Aubrey? Everything alright?"

An awkward sinking feeling came over her, then, as she realized she would have to give an explanation. She spent all that time waiting to call and realized she hadn’t even come up with a lie.

She twisted the cord around her finger. 

"Uh, yeah! Yeah, everything's cool, um. Just...wanted to see how you were doing?"

"...At seven a.m."

"Uh-huh."

A jangle of keys. A far-off sigh, probably as he pulled away from the phone in hopes that she wouldn't quite hear.

"Sure you're not calling because the lodge is, I don't know, in some kinda trouble? Surrounded by bears, or a tree's fallen through the roof, something like that?"

Aubrey gave a nervous laugh. The wind howled past the lodge's front door, and she hugged herself a little.

"Nnnope. Really, everything's fine here. Um...just been hearing this crazy wind, you know? I think it downed a tree nearby or something, 'cause it woke me up. And I just wanted to tell you to be safe? I think? You're on patrol today, right?" 

"Ah, yeah, this damn wind." He hissed through his teeth. "Probably shoulda warned the lot of you yesterday, but it's supposed to get pretty bad in a couple hours, so. You get everyone to stay in until, I dunno, 'round noon or so. Hopefully it tapers off by then."

"How bad?"

He clicked his tongue a couple times.

"Shouldn't be window-shattering bad, but the power has a, I dunno, twenty or thirty percent chance of goin' out. Probably gonna get some more downed trees, but the ones around the lodge should be alright. I think. Pretty sure Dannon was on top of making sure the forestry 'round the buildings weren't rotting, so if anything like that does happen...well, guess we'll just have to settle for cursin' his corpse, huh."

She laughed a little, somewhat startled. " _Geez_ , uh, guess so."

"Sorry, that was a bit dark, huh."

"Just a little. Thanks for the heads-up, but, uh, what about you?"

"What about me?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek. She just wanted to tell him "hey, don't die" or "hey, _please_ don't die," but she knew that road would force her to open up about the real reason behind her calling. So, instead, she said,

"Nothin'. Just want you to be safe is all." 

He paused for a moment. She heard his keys jangle again.

"Will do, Aubrey. You don't worry about me, alright? I keep tellin' you I'm tougher than I look."

"Can't help it," she muttered, then said, quickly, before he could respond to that, "I mean, I won't. Or, I will! Wow, damn. You know what I mean."

He breathed a short laugh. 

"I gotcha. Listen, no offense, but you sound beat, and I've gotta get to the station, so I'm gonna let you go, alright? If I'm lucky and today's smooth sailing, I'll come 'round later and check up on everything." 

"Okay. Sounds good. Thanks again, and, uh, sorry for calling so early." 

"That's okay. I'll see you around, Aubrey. Stay safe."

"You, too."

He hung up first. After she hung the phone back on the base, she stood there in the alcove for a little while longer, fingers still loosely set around the handle. Duck was fine. That's what she wanted, right? Just a confirmation that he was fine, and would be fine. 

It should have settled her nerves more than it had. 

She made her way back to Dani and the hearth, and Barclay, too, as he had pulled up a chair to their table. The two spoke in hushed tones to one another over their half-eaten breakfasts. As Aubrey neared, though, they stopped talking, instead watching her as she sat down again in her seat. 

"Guess Duck was still home?" Dani asked. 

Aubrey nodded. Before her was a plate of breakfast, covered in a plastic cloche to keep warm. A part of her craved it, but her stomach was still too flippy. She tucked her hands under the crook of her knees to keep from fussing with her fingers. 

"Yeah. Sounds like I caught him right before he left."

"So, he's doin' alright, then?"

Aubrey nodded, and relayed the weather warning that Duck had given her. At the message that the power could go out, Barclay slumped. 

"Oh, geez," he muttered. He heaved himself from his seat, plate in hand. "Well, if that's the case, I better get some stuff pulled together. Might want to drag out the ice box just in case, too..." 

With that, he loped off toward the kitchen. Aubrey watched him until he disappeared into another section of the room, then turned back to her plate. She untucked a hand to remove the cover, but only had the heart to pick at her eggs. 

Dani rested her cheek in her hand, elbow on the edge of the table. 

"You alright?" she asked. When Aubrey made a questioning noise, she said, "You still seem a little freaked is all." 

"Oh. Well..." Aubrey set down her fork with a sigh. "It's stupid. I know he's fine, and that he's going to be fine, but...I can't help it. Now I'm just worried that he's going to kick it out in this storm." 

"Mm. He's patrolling?" 

"Yeah. I think. I dunno, he keeps telling me not to worry, but..." 

She reached up to scrub her eyes again. Despite her short nap, she felt exhausted. (That nap, she thought, cut ten years off my lifespan).

Dani touched her shoulder. 

"You should really try to get some sleep. You look about ready to collapse." 

"I don't know if I can," she mumbled.

Dani hummed. "There must be something around here to help knock you out. Maybe something that'll just give you some weird wacko dreams instead of, you know, horrible ones. C’mon." 

With that, Dani tugged up on Aubrey, gently signaling her to stand. When she did, Dani guided her back in the direction of her room, where Dr. Bonkers was just waking. As Aubrey sat on her bed, Dani detoured to crouch in front of the rabbit, murmuring to him. When she rose, she had him in her arms.

"You stay here," she said to Aubrey. "I'll be back. Want me to take him off your hands for you?" 

Aubrey nodded, pushing herself back to lean her shoulders against the headboard. But then she said, "Actually, could you give him to me for a sec?" 

Rabbit acquired, and with Dani on the hunt for some sleep aids, Aubrey tried to at least get comfortable in bed again. She pet Dr. Bonkers slowly, murmuring to him her conversations with Dani and Duck. She asked how he slept and what he had dreamed about. She didn't tell him about her nightmare. 

Outside, the wind seemed to stay at a steady, harsh stream. The sky had started to lighten, leaving the room somewhat serene, though still darkened by the curtains and canopy of trees overhead. The walls creaked. Dani's footsteps, light as they were, could be heard as she crept around the still-sleeping lodge. 

Aubrey pressed a kissed to the rabbit's forehead. 

She fell asleep before Dani returned. 

–

It was a fitful sleep, but it was sleep nonetheless. 

When she next woke, Dr. Bonkers had been removed from her arms, only leaving patches of white fur on her hoodie in his wake. A throw blanket had been placed over her, her pillows somewhat rearranged. On her nightstand, there was a small glass dropper bottle, unlabeled, a note folded beside it--*Just in case! Two drops. -D.* Though the curtains were still drawn, the room had lightened, leaving her disoriented. Her dreams, or maybe nightmares, had quickly been sloughed from her memory, and she was left grasping for the last remaining threads for a few moments before settling for forgetting.

She didn't get up right away. She laid there, listening to the sounds of the lodge as the residents milled about. Pockets of laughter, the pad of footsteps. A minor crash, followed by Jake whooping. The walls of her room creaking minutely. The wind, no longer as strong as it had been, only making the trees rustle intermittently. 

*Huh.*

That gave her some pause. 

She didn't look at the time right away, but eventually she rolled onto her side and looked past Dani’s note to squint at the red-letter alarm clock. Quarter-past two. Still groggy, she didn't think that was half bad, but, seeing as she had been having a pretty good streak of getting up by nine, she reconsidered.

It wasn't until she sat up and popped her neck that she wondered about Duck.

She forced a long breath down at that. She sat for a moment longer, then hauled herself out of bed and into the bathroom to get ready. 

A quick shower and minor wardrobe change later, she was pocketing her room key and stepping out into the hallway.

The lobby was as lively as it sounded. In the wake of the storm, everyone must have figured it would be a good day to cozy up indoors. The fire was still going. People chatted, or curled up with their books, or were making a field day out of precariously rearranging the tables to do stunts on (another crash, another laugh from Jake). Lunch had already gone and passed, but Aubrey made her way to the kitchen, hoping she would run into Barclay on the way. 

Instead, as she passed by the kitchen's window, she spotted Dani leaning against the counter, popping almonds into her mouth as Barclay spoke to her, his back to Aubrey as he toweled off dishes. 

Aubrey knocked on the side of the cut-out. Dani looked up.

"Oh! Hey, Aubrey. Finally alive, huh?"

"Hah, yeah... yeesh, I didn't expect to sleep so late."

"I bet.” Dani turned to the fridge and shifted around some things. “Feeling any better? We've got some leftover lunch stuff, unless you want something else."

"I could fix you up something fresh," Barclay said, "if you don't mind waiting."

"Oh, don't worry about it Barclay. I'll take anything right now." 

As Dani prepped, Aubrey looked out the large windows at the back of the lobby. A thin dusting of snow had fallen at some point during the morning, swirling in lazy circles over the path as the last dregs of the storm passed. 

"Guess I missed the storm, huh?" 

"Yeah, I don't know how you managed it. Just about woke everyone else up with all the noise. Some trees fell way in the back, but otherwise no harm done." 

"Huh." Aubrey rested her hand on the back of her neck. "Uh, hear anything else? The rest of the town okay?"

Dani spared a knowing glance at her before passing her her plate. 

"I haven't heard anything. Radio's been going in and out, though."

"I thought I heard some sirens earlier," Barclay noted. He turned off the tap and shook out his hands over the sink. "Not unheard of for people to go out, I don't know, _survival adventuring_ or whatever. Pretty stupid if you ask me." 

"Or," Dani said, sending a pointed look to him, "maybe a tree just fell in the road." 

"Or that," he conceded. "Probably that."

Aubrey ate her lunch standing at the window, leaning her elbows on the counter. She exchanged another look with Dani, one that she hope gave the vibe of _I'm fine, and I'm not going to freak out, because in retrospect this morning was_ super _embarrassing, but is it okay that I'm still concerned? Because I'm still concerned. He's probably fine, though. Right?_

Dani only gave her a small smile, not unknowing, but maybe somewhat oblivious to what Aubrey had tried to convey. 

Aubrey looked back out the large windows as a burst of warmth crept under her chest and cheeks. 

While she was turned away, the front door of the lodge opened, letting in a brief chill that stung and sank into the lobby. As it snapped shut, Aubrey turned to Duck stomping the snow from his boots.

Some of the residents nearest him said their hellos, at which he nodded, though he stood there a moment to scan the faces in the room. When his eyes landed on her, she waved at him. Instead of stepping in, he tossed his head a little, beckoning her. He looked as though he wasn't going to stick around long.

She huffed a little, telling Dani she'd be right back as she made her way to the front. Duck kept his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, though turned to press part of his face into his shoulder. Nearing him, she realized he was pink with windburn.

"Hey, Duck. You, uh, done for the day?"

He nodded a hello back.

"Nah, not really, just figured a break was in order. I would've come earlier, but I got to spend two hours just getting a guy from forestry down to pull a tree off of Thornwood. Big thing, too, big ol' white cedar. Guess Dannon missed it, but what can you do." 

He shifted his hands in his pockets. He pulled out a hand warmer, rolled it between his fingers.

"We got lucky though. Stony Bottom's been out of power for the past four, five hours. Snowshoe's dealin' with its own catastrophe—"

"Mama says the whole thing's a catastrophe."

"She ain't wrong, but we had to get some of our own to go help out up there. Told Juno, gee, I'd love to, but I've, y'know, got something to deal with, somethin' that just popped up." 

He paused to rub his thumbpad against the side of his nose before slipping his hand back into his pocket. Aubrey raised a brow at him. 

"Which...wasn't a lie?"

"Nah, I got – well, Mick relayed a call over to me from the station. Hospital called to say Ned's fully conscious. Has been for most of the day, but they wanted to wait 'n make sure."

Aubrey reeled.

" _What?_ Duck, you could have just _said_ that. The hell!"

"Well, I was gonna, but you kind of got me on a different track."

"Jesus, Duck. Are we heading over? I mean, are you going over now?"

"Yeah, yeah. I figured you'd wanna come with, and I did say I'd stop by, so. Two birds, one stone." 

"Okay, just." She started stepping backwards in the direction of her room. "Let me grab my stuff real quick, I'll be right back." 

"Sure, sure. Ned's not goin' anywhere."

It didn't take long. She returned to the front door, hat and scarf tugged on haphazard, still slipping one arm through her jacket as she followed Duck out the door. The cold bit at her, and bit her still as she sat in the passenger seat of his car. It took until they got on Branch Brook that the heat fully kicked on, after he had deliberately driven past the road where Mr. Tarkesian's store half-stood, taking the next right instead. Aubrey tried not to notice that he gave a sideways glance at her as he did, which only meant that they had caught each other. She quickly looked out the window at the passing forest, the air becoming palpable.

The hospital was a ways away, a handful of towns south from Kepler. In her rush to get out, she hadn't thought of the fact that she would be sitting alone with Duck for the next forty minutes. 

She drummed her fingers against her knee.

"So," he said, cutting through the silence, "you seem to be farin’ a bit better." 

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Um." She looked at him again, then directed her eyes on the road ahead. "Yeah, I'm alright now. I mean, this morning, was, you know." She racked her brain for the lie she had told. "Well, all the wind, and all...yeah. Yeah! Guess it was weird to hear from me, for, like, no reason, huh?"

He shrugged.

"Was a little weird, not gonna lie. But, you stalled me from goin' out in the cold for a little while longer, which was appreciated." 

"Well, you're welcome."

They drove past the marker that more or less meant they had exited Kepler. He drummed a finger slowly against the steering wheel. Straightened himself in his seat. 

"Sure you're alright, though? You're still, I dunno. Twitchy's not the right word, but somethin' seems off."

"Hey, I'm the perfect amount of twitchy, thanks." However, she shifted so she sat on her hands. Drummed her toes against the incline of the floorboard. "Or maybe I just had too much caffeine, you know. I'm a-okay." 

"If you say so. I'm just sayin'...well." 

He clicked his tongue, pausing, as if parsing the right words. 

"I'm just sayin', it's okay if you're, y'know, still freaked. About what happened. It sucked."

She felt her ears burn at the mention of it. She pulled her hands from under her legs to cross her arms as he continued.

"And, I mean. Not for nothin', but you were zoned for a while there. And I know, shock and everything, hell. That's one thing. But...shoot, Aub, you kind of spooked me."

He shifted in his seat again. This was getting uncomfortable. Aubrey chewed her lip a little before saying,

"I know. But, to be fair, you spooked me first." 

"Well..."

"So now we're even. Yeah?" 

A light drizzle pattered against the windshield as they turned onto a long stretch of road. He hummed flatly as he flicked on the wipers.

"What I'm sayin' is," he started, slow, as if working around his words carefully, "is that...like, whatever was going on, that's all between you 'n your doctor, or whoever saw you, if you told 'em anything. Which maybe you didn't, or if you happened to get a nurse lacking in bedside manner, maybe they didn't ask. I dunno. Point is, it's alright if you're still going through stuff about it. And you can, you know, talk to me about it, if you're inclined. You don't have to. I'm just, y'know, offering as a friend." 

Aubrey picked at a hangnail, eyes flickering between her hands, the road, the expanse of fields and trees they drove alongside. She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out the first couple tries. Finally, she settled on asking,

"Is this because of my weird phone call?" 

"Partially. Call it a hunch, but you seemed to be callin' about something else." 

She slouched in the seat with a sigh. Fiddled with the seatbelt over her chest, stretching it out and feeling it reel back in. Duck didn't seem to mind her bout of silence, but in it she squirmed. 

"I don't want you to worry about me," she said. "Like, I know that the whole thing was...super weird, and I'm sorry if I scared you. But I'm good now, and I don't plan on it happening again, so. It was just a weird, freak thing that happened, one time."

"Hm." 

"I promise it won't happen again."

"Aubrey..." He sighed, checking his mirrors quick before turning onto another road. "Look, frankly, that's not something that's always gonna be in your control. And I'm not mad at you about it, hell, I'm not even mad at you for nearly squashing me."

She flinched at that, but he continued. 

"You're still new to this stuff. I mean, we all are, this whole Pine Guard, Sylvain, monster-hunting business. But you're real new to your powers, yeah? You're still learning. There's gonna be bumps along the way, and some of them aren't gonna be pretty. Just how it is." 

"No, I know, but." Planting her hands on the sides of the car seat, she wriggled herself up straighter, then splayed out her hands, gesturing as she spoke. "Duck, I nearly killed you, you know? Like, _killed_ killed you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I _wrecked_ Mr. Tarkesian's store, I could have killed him, too, I mean—there's almost no way anyone should have made it out of that alive." 

"Uh-huh. But, everyone did make it out alive."

"But it shouldn't have happened." 

"But it did." 

"But—"

"Aubrey, are you just gonna keep running around in circles with this, or what?" 

She started to retort, to say she damn sure was going to, but she stopped herself. Bit her tongue and tried to settle her thoughts before responding. Duck, in the meantime, spoke again.

"Look, the world works in mysterious ways. Every day, everywhere, there's stuff that should happen that doesn't. And, there's stuff that shouldn't happen that does. It's downright stupid, maybe, but in the grand scheme of things, the universe doesn't run on logic, not all the time. Least I don't think so. Sometimes things just are what they are. So, sure, maybe the damn Pizza Hut sign _should_ have been my ticket off this planet, but luck happened to be in our cards, or the stars aligned, or whatever you wanna believe. Even Ned lucked out, not snapping his neck with that damn jetpack.

"At the end of the day, we all lived. You could say it was some cosmic power, and they said, to hell with it, keep them alive a little longer. Maybe they were real nice about it and said the universe needs us or something—bit heavy-handed for me, but I'm sure the idea makes some people feel better. Or, it might not've been anything in the universe at all. We don't really know, do we."

He stopped to sigh. Flicked off the window wipers as they drove out of the scope of the rain. 

"I don't mean to get preachy," he continued. "Personally, I've just kind of come to accept that weird shit's going to happen, whether I think it should or not. Doesn't matter what I think. Things happen, you deal with them, life goes on. More weird shit happens, rinse and repeat."

Aubrey had settled for crossing her arms again, staring down at her lap, the glove compartment, a spot on the window. She knew he was right, but that didn't mean something in her psyche wasn't going to actively combat it. Call it stubbornness. She drew in a breath.

"Look, I... I keep having this sinking feeling that— Okay, this is going to sound super paranoid, but I think there's something just messing with me? And I don't mean, like, you know, psychologically—"

"Hmm."

"—I mean, like maybe there _is_ something out in the universe, and it's doing all the stuff you said, like keeping us alive, or whatever, but. Maybe it realized it made a mistake?"

"Uh-huh?"

"And, well." She spoke slowly as her voice grew timid. "Maybe it realized that what did happen _shouldn't_ have, and it's going to...'fix' it. You know what I mean?"

Duck looked at her. Looked back at the road. Tilted his head minutely side to side. 

"I’m assuming this is related to your call this morning."

"Yes."

"Alright. So..."

"So... Alright, long story short, I didn’t sleep last night, literally, at all, because I got this wacked up idea that if I fell asleep you'd die." 

She rushed her next words before Duck could respond. "It doesn't make sense, trust me, I know that. I didn't decide on it, it's like. It felt like something was keeping me awake. Like a poltergeist or something? And it's obviously not true, I mean, okay, I _did_ end up having this weird nightmare about you, actually, before I called—super weird, you were in my house, it sucked. And I ended up passing out all day today, so." 

She shrugged, squeezing her arms lightly as she watched him. He didn't seem bothered by what she was saying. If anything, he looked a little pensive, returning to the steady drum of his fingers against the wheel. 

Eventually he said, "Well. I mean, that's a little concerning, huh."

"Maybe a little?"

"I know what I just said about, you know, weird stuff happening in the world all the time, but. Geez, you know that if I suddenly kicked it, it probably would have been because of, you know, the fact that I don’t check my sodium intake, or had an off-encounter with a bear.”

She heaved a sigh.

"I know–” 

“Or, because there are now literal monsters in Kepler popping up wherever they please. I’m waiting for the day one pops up in my apartment and that scene from _Psycho_ plays out.”

“Holy shit, that’s not a mental image I want.” 

“I mean, I could be like Ned and just keep my gun in the shower just in case, but I always found that to be a bit over the top.”

“He does what now?”

Duck huffed a laugh.

“Oh yeah. For all the horror movies the guy watches, apparently he’s been spooked over that one since he was a kid. Think he told me he asked his dad for a gun for is eleventh birthday for that sole reason.”

“Wow. Has he ever needed it? Like, has he ever actually shot it?”

“...You know, I’ve never asked.” 

Aubrey cracked a smile, then a little laugh. 

“That’s so fucked up.”

“Kind of smart.”

“No, Duck. It’s a little nutso.” 

“Well, that’s Ned for you. Guy doesn’t really have a penchant for normal.” 

They drove on. Aubrey took it upon herself to snoop, trying to open the glove box (and failing to get Duck to give her the key to unlock it, at which point she accused him of hiding treasures). She shuffled through the things in the armrest compartment (extra maps, dried up Sharpies, unwrapped plastic straws and napkins floating around), asked who was talking every time his walkie-talkie buzzed to life, asked if she could talk to them back (also denied). Duck asked how the residents at Amnesty were doing, mostly curious about what the hell Jake had been up to when he walked in. “Stunts” was the only answer Aubrey could give him. 

Eventually, they passed the JCT-55 sign on the road, signaling that they were close. Soon after, they passed the sign for Marlinton.

“I forgot to ask,” Aubrey said, flipping through a small booklet she had found in the compartment before tossing it in the backseat, “are we taking Ned home?”

“Think so. Not sure why the doctors would want to keep him around if they’ve been monitoring him all day.”

“You mean, in a ‘he’s been stable all day and is probably fine’ way, or ‘oh my god this guy has been stable all day and is the worst let’s get him out of here’ way?”

“You tell me.”

She hummed. Some moments later, Duck pulled into the hospital’s parking lot. Aubrey had her seatbelt undone before he even found a place to park, hand on the door’s handle, eager, if anything, to get out and stretch her legs.

Before she could climb out, though, Duck turned to her. She waited. He fussed with his keys, the walkie-talkie, patted down to make sure he had his identification.

“Duck,” she pressed.

“Sorry. You’re good to go?”

“Yes?”

“Just makin’ sure. Y'know, while we’re here, we could probably hook you up with whoever saw you if you had any, like, questions, concerns—”

She half-opened the door and waved him off. The chill stung her bare wrist. 

“Nah, nah, I’m good. I think I’ll be okay, promise.” 

“If you’re sure. Just sayin’ it’s an option.” 

At that, she stepped out, bumping her hip against the door to shut it. She shuddered as she took in the cold. Although the storm didn’t seem to hit here, the town seemed to have gotten a thicker dusting of snow, piled against the yellow parker bumpers from being shoveled off the sidewalks. She nudged the snowbanks against the curb with her boot as Duck emerged from the driver’s side. 

When he met her at the sidewalk, he adjusted his hat, earlobes already turning red. She tugged her coat a little more snug against her and shoved her numbing hands in the pockets.

In one, she felt her gloves.

“All right, then,” he said. “Let’s go get our guy.”

She nodded. She grinned softly as she followed him along the path to the hospital entrance, brushing by the bramble bushes and disturbing their thin branches. A couple of warbler birds flew off when she got too close, only to return as quickly as they had left to pick at the remains of the red sprite berries. A breeze hit them square and fell away as they stepped inside.

And in her pockets, her hands were still.

**Author's Note:**

> bonus scene: duck slips aubrey the number for her physician because he's still concerned with a capital C and, you know, a good friend. 
> 
> anyways hey! this is the first thing i've written in half a year (and first taz-related fic) so!! a bit rambly, but i hope y'all enjoyed :-)
> 
> -abby


End file.
